A phone call for Neiman comes to the mansion from Larry King, the radio and TV personality. King has just moved into a huge Washington, D.C. condo overlooking the Lincoln Memorial. He has a large empty wall to fill, and he wants a Neiman, a big Neiman.
"Of what?" asks LeRoy, recounting the conversation.
"Baseball. I love baseball."
"I don't have anything big in baseball."
"Football then. That's my number two sport."
"Don't have any big footballs, either."
King says he is crushed. "Tell you what," says Neiman. "Measure the wall, call me back, and we'll talk money."
Neiman says he doesn't know how much money he has and that he doesn't much care. He has no use for agents, publicists or fawning entourages. He turns down hundreds of offers to design T shirts, pillowcases and belt buckles. He won't make concessions. He never gives an inch in negotiations. And nobody can tell him how to paint.
Anyone with a semester of art appreciation who looks carefully at a typical Neiman painting for 30 seconds will conclude that it is a B-plus illustration of a clichéd pose, carried out with considerable facility, a little garishness and absolutely no profundity.
A week later Neiman is visiting another grand estate in Holmby Hills. This one is owned by Glen Larson, the writer and producer of TV's Magnum, P.I., The Fall Guy and Sheriff Lobo. Neiman appeared in one of Larson's unsold pilots a few years back, playing an artist kept by a beautiful woman.